


you know I’ll never be lonely

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Freaking song lyric title because I couldn’t think of anything, Gen, Inspired by that one bit in the show, I’m just stretching my fingers, Which is unusual for me, bit of angst, but idk it got my muse going, p sure people have already done this, that Crowley thought had died, trying to write them, where Aziraphale has absolutely no clue that he’s the best friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 17:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19113991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: Just Aziraphale and Crowley spending time together. Perhaps, a brief discussion about Crowley's best friend.





	you know I’ll never be lonely

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize beforehand for any misspellings. For some reason autocorrect is fine with both Aziraphale and Azirphale which is... frustrating. I’m bound to have missed adding that A somewhere in here...

Aziraphale twitched, mouth set in a prim disapproving line, brows scrunched just so, in that disappointed parental way of his. Crowley grinned, particularly pleased in his unfailing ability to make Aziraphale's face twist into that specific expression. Some sort of fond annoyance. A complete and utter lack of understanding with a hint of puzzled indulgence. 

Crowley lounged on the couch, one of Aziraphale's precious books in his hand. He’d perhaps been scoffing rather loudly while he’d read and maybe he’d dogeared a precious page or two. Aziraphale, one leg crossed over the other, squinted at him over the top of his own book, daring him to resume his interruptions.

Crowley smiled and carefully set the book he’d been messing with down on the table, folding his hands across his chest and cocking his head as if to say, 'see? I’m being obedient.'

Aziraphale sighed, brows furrowed as if he was developing the beginnings of a headache. Crowley's grin widened. Aziraphale snapped shut the book he’d been holding, accepting defeat, "Crowley. You know that you could wait for me at the restaurant? I would certainly finish my chapter faster and reach a stopping place sooner without the... interruptions."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, leaning on one arm, head in hand, long legs folded over each other, "I’m too distracting for you?"

Aziraphale breathed out sharply through his nose, "Sometimes, I don’t understand why on earth, or on heaven, or even-“ he wrinkled his nose with distaste, "Or even where you’re from-“ 

"You mean hell?"

Aziraphale leveled his best glower and stood, "I don’t know why I put up with you some days." 

Crowley sat up, suddenly extremely interested instead of lazily amused, "Oh? Are we going then?"

Aziraphale sighed, "Yes, yes, we're going." He glanced longingly at his discarded book. Crowley stood and straightened his jacket with a quick tug. Noticing his friend’s wistful look, he patted his back, "Where we're going has the most delicious little bottarga dish." He clucked his tongue, watching the angel out of the corner of his eye. 

Aziraphale looked up. It was ridiculous really, how he quite literally brightened, "What, really?"

He’d caught him, hook, line, and sinker. Crowley grinned, teeth sharklike, "Would I lie to you?"

Aziraphale blinked slowly at him, a hand fiddling with his pocket watch, "...Well, you  _are_ a  demon, you know."

Crowley's brows drew down, teeth chewing on his lower lip before he conceded, "Yes, yes, you’re right. Bad choice of words, that... But..." he looked at him over the top of his sunglasses, "Would  _I_   lie to  _you?_ "

Aziraphale stared back, seeing right through him and his yellow reptilian eyes. He smiled softly, fondly, and shook his head, "No, Crowley. You wouldn’t." 

Aziraphale pushed past the momentary speechless devil, "Well, shall we get on with it?"

Crowley nodded, fighting the ridiculous urge to truly smile. 

The air was cool and crisp, the clouds soft and fluffy, the sky a stunningly bright blue. Aziraphale breathed in deeply and sighed, content as a cat with creme. Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets, "Its not far."

Aziraphale nodded, "Shall we walk then? It’s really quite a nice day out, today. Who knows how long that will last?" 

Crowley pursed his lips, but shrugged, "Ah, why not?" 

The pair made their way down the sidewalk, Crowley shortening his ridiculous stride so that Aziraphale didn’t have to trot to keep up. The angel seemed to remember something and he tilted his head thoughtfully, "Oh, speaking of your car-“ 

"We weren’t, though."

Aziraphale waved him off, "Speaking of walking, and then your car, and then my bookshop, really, and the not end of the world just a few days ago-"

Crowley huffed, "Aziraphale."

Aziraphale stopped his babbling and blinked, "Yes?"

"Spit it out." 

The angel pressed his vest down absentmindedly, "Oh, yes, quite. What I mean to say is, well, how is your friend?" 

Crowley blinked, brows furrowing with confusion, "My... friend?"

Aziraphale tilted his head, "Well yes. The dead one." 

Crowley racked his brains but he couldn’t think of any dead friend. The only one who’d died had been his car, really, "...The dead one?"

Aziraphale could see that something wasn’t connecting, "Yes. Remember? I found you in that little bar, which was quite nice by the way, except that you were in an absolute state and I was worried because it felt like you’d perhaps been crying but you seemed alright when I spoke to you and oh well. What I mean is, you said your best friend had died and what I want to know is if they’re okay?" 

Crowley processed this whole confusing ramble and his mouth parted in an 'o' when he realized what the angel was getting at, "Oh! That." 

Aziraphale nodded, grinning with relief, "Yes that. I assumed since you don’t seem torn up about it anymore, that they’d come to life again with the bookshop and the car?" 

The demon squinted, trying to see if he was being serious. The angel across from him was being completely serious, it seemed. Hands clasped in front of his chest, eyes innocent, open, wide, and earnest, brows slightly furrowed with genuine worry. 

Crowley shook his head, "I swear to heaven, honestly...." he lengthened his stride, "The things that I put up with!"

Aziraphale watched him go before starting after him, “Oh, Crowley! I didn’t mean to bring up something painful-!” Fearing he’d ruined their pleasant outing he hurried to catch up. 

Luckily, the demon had slowed obligingly. Aziraphale panted, "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean... I’d just... I'd thought they were alright."

Crowley halted completely, "No, it’s not- it’s not that." He sighed and tilted his head backwards, glaring at the clouds, "At the bar, it was... after you’d been discorporated. I'd just found your bookshop and it was burning down and I couldn’t- I couldn’t find you anywhere. I thought... I thought you’d died. I’d thought you’d been killed."

He glanced back down, kicking the ground idly with a foot, " _You_ are  my best friend, Aziraphale. Have been for a couple thousand years." 

Aziraphale seemed slow to grasp what the fallen angel had said, but when it did finally dawn on him, the angel  _beamed_ , and oh, he regretted saying anything already. Crowley snorted with disgust and exasperation, "Oh please, don’t start-!” 

Aziraphale's smile could power the sun and probably a few stars for a good long while. He seemed to sense the demon's discomfort, however and with great effort restrained himself from saying anything but, "Oh, please, Crowley. Honestly." 

He clasped his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, positively _glowing_. He bent his white haired head to the side as if revealing some great secret, "You’re my best friend, too, Crowley." He nodded expertly and then strode away, hands still clasped behind his back. Aziraphale threw over his shoulder, "We'll be late for lunch if you don’t hurry! Miracles aren’t cheap, you know."

Crowley opened and closed his mouth, suppressing another troublesome genuine smile, "What are you talking about? Yes, they are!" 

He followed, his friend, his best friend, off into the bowels of London and pretended that his lips didn’t quirk up in that same sort of open fondness that Aziraphale had always given him. 


End file.
